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“But Suki is ornery and does as she pleases,” Suki said as she brought in a tray. “I like cream in my coffee, and it hasn’t given me a bellyache in all the years I’ve been drinking it.” She placed bowls in front of Flora and Belle. “Now I tried this stuff once, and I had a bellyache that wouldn’t quit.”
“Suki has diverticulitis,” Flora said. “She doesn’t handle seeds well. I think it’s the raspberries.”
“You gonna tell her about my bunions, too?” Suki asked.
Belle stifled a laugh behind her mug.
“I’m sorry, Suki,” Flora said. “That was indelicate of me.”
Suki gave a curt nod. “We’re about out of that cereal mix. Want me to pick some up today?”
“I can,” Flora said. “I need to run by the gallery this afternoon and the health food shop is next door. Belle, if you feel up to it, you might like to go with me and see a bit of the town.”
“She needs to sit on the porch and rest, not gallivant all over the countryside,” Suki said.
“I don’t intend to gallivant,” Flora said, looking indignant. “There’s not much to see of town anyway. Wimberley is very small, and we’ll be in the car. We’ll only walk a few steps into the gallery and a few steps next door to Daisy’s. Daisy runs the health food store. She’s an old friend.”
“Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be fine,” Belle said to Suki, who looked as if she were about to argue. “I need a few things from the health food store myself.”
“See that you take care,” Suki said, “and don’t overdo it. I’ll get to my chores.”
Suki left, and they finished their breakfast. Belle heard a vacuum cleaner somewhere in the house as she poured a second cup of coffee.
“Are you sure you don’t mind sitting for me?” Flora asked. “I’m eager to make some preliminary sketches.”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Good.” Flora hopped up. “Bring your coffee and let’s sit on the front porch. The light’s good there, and Suki will be happy you’re getting some fresh air. I’ll run upstairs and get my pencils and pad.”
Belle found a sunny spot on the porch and sat in one of the large wooden rockers there. Her parents used to have rocking chairs on their front porch in Naconiche. Thinking of her folks made her feel a bit guilty. She really ought to let them know where she was and about the situation between Matt and her. It would be awkward if her mom called Matt’s place looking for her. Belle had tried to head off that situation by calling home last week and casually mentioning that she would be involved in some out-of-town business and that she could be reached on her cell phone.
She promised herself that she’d call her parents the next day.
Or the day after.
Odd that she felt more comfortable among strangers than her own family. It wasn’t that her mother and father wouldn’t understand—or her brothers and their wives. They would. They would gather her under their wings like a hen with chicks. And she’d have to admit that she’d failed. Belle hated failing. More than hated it. The word had been erased from her vocabulary. But in the past year, she’d failed as an FBI agent and failed as a wife.
Someone had once said that failure was character-building. Maybe so, but she didn’t feel edified in any way. She felt like a first-class wuss, and to be sick and helpless on top of that had brought her to her knees. She didn’t like the feeling. She didn’t like it at all.
“You must be pondering weighty things,” Flora said.
Belle relaxed the wrinkles she felt in her forehead. “Oh? How can you tell?”
“You have a very expressive face. And aura.”
“Aura?”
Flora’s lilting laugh blended in with the dewy scent of the mountain laurels. “Ah, you’re such a skeptic on the surface and such a believer down deep. You’ve made the right decisions, and you’ll find your way.”
“Pardon?” Was Gabe’s mother some sort of psychic?
Flora laughed again, sat down and began to sketch. “I’m not touched, you know. I simply have an ability to see my subjects more deeply than a camera sees them. I’m so glad Gabe brought you home with him. Skye always brings home lost puppies and stray cats. Gabe brings home people.”
Belle wasn’t quite sure how the take the comment. She didn’t like to think of herself as the human version of a lost puppy. She’d always been tough and in control, goal-oriented. Now she felt rudderless. Maybe it was a good analogy.
“Oh, such lovely potential I see breaking through that facade,” Flora said as she continued to sketch.
“Was Lisa a stray?” Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that.
“No. Lisa was a shark.”
“I’ve been called a shark a few times myself.”
“Oh, no, dear,” Flora said. “You’re no shark. And no stray cat, either. You’re an eagle. A young eagle almost ready to stretch her wings and fly. See?”
Flora turned her pad so that Belle could see it, and Belle gasped. The drawing, a quick pastel sketch, literally took her breath away. With only a few lines, the older woman had captured her likeness, but she’d also captured something more. If Belle looked at the paper a certain way, her features seemed to morph into those of an eagle soaring toward a brilliant multicolored sky.
“That’s amazing,” Belle said. “That’s…that’s…”
“The way you feel inside?”
“It’s the way I want to feel inside. It’s the way I used to feel when I was a child—just before I went to sleep.”
“And you’ll feel that way again. You’ve just taken a detour for a while.”
“Are you psychic or something?” Belle asked, the word almost sticking in her throat. She’d never had much use for hocus-pocus stuff.
“Don’t I wish. I’d do better at the lottery. Do you know that the most I’ve ever won is twenty-five dollars? And that was three years ago. Which reminds me, I need to pick up a ticket when we go out this afternoon.”
Belle continued to rock in her chair, and Flora continued to sketch and draw out the story of her life. Belle told her all about growing up with four brothers in Naconiche, about her time in training for the FBI and, to her surprise, about her failed marriage. She couldn’t believe that she was being such a blabbermouth, especially with a virtual stranger.
“It hurts terribly, doesn’t it, dear? I found myself in the same situation with my last husband. I thought I knew him so well, and it turned out that I didn’t know him at all.”
“Skye’s father?”
“Oh, no. Skye’s father was a saint. I meant my third husband. He was a cad. Turn your head just a bit to the left. There. That’s it.”
“Well, hello, ladies,” Gabe said from the steps.
Flora glanced up. “Oh, my. Is it lunchtime already?”
“Almost,” Gabe said. “Has Mother had you posing all morning?”
“No, I slept most of the morning. We’ve only been out here—” Belle glanced at her watch. “I can’t believe that we’ve been out here for three hours.”
“Three hours!” Flora exclaimed. “It can’t be.”
Gabe leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek. “That’s what you always say. You’ll wear Belle out on her first day.”
“Not likely,” Belle said. “The time got away from me, too. I’ve been totally relaxed, rocking and talking.”
“Have you spilled all your secrets to her yet?” Gabe asked. “Mother has that effect on people.”
Belle chuckled. “Maybe it’s good that you came home when you did. I might have blabbed classified information.”
“Too late,” Gabe said. “You told me everything you knew when you were in the hospital.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. You were a regular chatterbox.” When Belle scowled at him, Gabe threw up his hands and grinned. “I’m teasing. Don’t shoot me.”
“Gabriel, what a thing to say to our guest!”
Before either could respond, a Jeep roared up and pulled to a stop in front of the house. A door opened and the biggest, meanest-looking man Belle had ever seen climbed from behind the wheel.
Chapter Four
Belle had seen some tough customers in her day, but this guy topped the list. Figuring him to be in his late thirties and about six-nine or so, she’d guess his weight at around three hundred pounds. But he wasn’t fat, just big. Huge. Think Shaq on steroids. He had arms and legs like tree trunks and shoulders wider than a bus grill. He wore jeans and a wind-breaker with enough fabric to make a hang glider. His head was shaved, and a scar curved from the corner of one dark eye to the edge of his grim mouth. She grew very, very still, watching him.
Then the other door opened, and Skye got out, followed closely by Gus.
Gabe smiled at the man. “Hello, there, Napoleon. How’s it going?”
“Fine, Mr. Burrell. Just fine. Good to have you back.”
“Good to be back. Belle, this is Napoleon Jones, Skye’s assistant.”
The assistant nodded toward Belle. She nodded back.
Tiger came running from the house and practically leapt into Napoleon’s arms. The big man laughed, a deep rich sound, and held the wiggling little dog gently against him as Tiger licked his face.
“How you doing, little guy,” Napoleon said, scratching Tiger’s head as the dog licked some more.
“Belle,” Skye said, “I see that Mother already has you posing for her.” Skye peeked over Flora’s shoulder at the sketches. “Wow. That’s really something, isn’t it? Mother can see things that no one else does, but I think she’s captured you beautifully.”
“These are just quick sketches,” Flora said. “The painting will be better. I’ll start on it tomorrow. Shall we go in for lunch? I imagine that Maria has things ready.”
Once inside at the table, Belle was shocked to see it laden with so much food. Enormous platters of meat and bowls of vegetables, along with salads and a tureen of soup, covered the huge table and sideboard. It looked more like a church potluck dinner than a simple lunch. She wondered about the waste since she and Skye and Flora had only soup and green salad.
She needn’t have wondered. Napoleon packed it away like no one she’d ever seen—and with four brothers and their friends, she’d seen some world-class eaters in her day.
When Belle finished, she said to Flora, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go upstairs and freshen up for our errand.”
“What errand?” Gabe asked.
“Your mother and I are driving into town.”
“I need to stop by the gallery, and I need to pick up a few things from Daisy’s,” Flora said.
“Are you sure that you’re up to the trip?” Gabe asked.
“I think so. If I get tired, I can wait in the car.”
“I’ll drive you,” he said.
Flora winked at Belle. “That means he’ll go along and supervise your activity level.”
“I’m fully capable of supervising my own activity level.” Belle’s words came out a bit sharper than she’d intended, but she’d never taken to being monitored.
Skye snorted, then hid it behind a cough.
Gabe chuckled. “Of course you are. It’s just that I’ve cleared my desk so that I have a couple of free hours, and I was hoping to take you for a drive around the village.”
“That only takes five minutes,” Skye said.
“True,” Gabe said. “We’ll circle the square twice.”
“Don’t forget that cereal,” Suki said. “And it wouldn’t hurt to pick up another quart of honey.”
Napoleon didn’t say a word. He merely ate. Ralph had kept pace with him for a few minutes, but he’d soon dropped out of the race.
GABE LOADED two paper-wrapped paintings into the back of his Lexus. He and Flora tried to insist that Belle ride up front with him, but she declined and climbed into the backseat instead, leaving a frustrated Flora to settle for the passenger seat.
Belle had a sneaking feeling that Flora was eager to play matchmaker. It wouldn’t work. She wasn’t interested in being matched with anyone—not even gorgeous Gabe.
They drove down the hill’s long, curving road until they came to a gatehouse. Belle was surprised to see that it was manned by a guard.
Gabe smiled and nodded. “Roscoe.”
Roscoe, a burly guy who looked like an ex-Marine, nodded back, then peered inside the car before he punched the gate open.
As they drove through, Belle said, “I’m surprised to see a guard on duty.”
“We get a lot of folks who don’t realize that ours is a private road,” Gabe said. “And don’t try to hop the fence. It’s electrified to keep our critters in and others out.”
“Electrified?” Belle said. “That seems a bit excessive.”
He chuckled. “You don’t know the deer around here. They can be very determined, and Suki has a fit if they get in her pea patch and herb garden.”
“Suki grows wonderful herbs,” Flora said. “And she’ll be planting her garden soon. Nobody grows vegetables like Suki. Of course Ralph helps her with the heavy work, tilling and such.”
“With all the limestone, I thought it might be too rocky around here for vegetable gardens,” Belle said.
“It takes some doing, but there are areas where the soil has been enriched,” Gabe said. “We even have a couple of vineyards around.”
“Gabriel is a partner in one of them, aren’t you, dear?” Flora said.
Belle allowed herself to be drawn into a conversation about local crops and wine, but she still thought it was odd to have an electrified fence and a guard at the gate. But then, she’d never lived on what could only be called an estate. In East Texas where she’d grown up, cattle guards and barbed wire served the purpose.
